Rebirth of the Phoenix: The Top Supermodel Strikes Back!

On a lazy winter afternoon, warm sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. Violet Brooks, curled up in the rocking chair by the bed, stirred uncomfortably as the light fell across her face. She instinctively raised a hand to block it, the movement gradually pulling her from sleep.

As she sat up, her eyes immediately landed on the man lying in bed. She carefully observed him, ensuring he was resting peacefully before gently patting his hand. Her voice was soft, soothing, with a touch of reassurance. "Stay home and rest, okay? I'm going to a charity gala with Grandpa, but I'll be back by nine."

The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Nancy, who had come upstairs to call for her, happened to witness the scene. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, filled with emotions too complex to name. But in the next moment, she composed herself, returning to her usual sharp, professional demeanor. "Madam, your gown has arrived."

"Got it. I'll be down in a minute," Violet replied.

At the charity gala, the venue sparkled with dazzling lights, filled with elegantly dressed guests and the hum of polite conversation. Violet Brooks, clad in a sleek black strapless mermaid gown, sat alone in the corner, swirling the wine in her glass, sipping slowly. She was expertly dodging yet another persistent dance invitation when her phone rang with a familiar ringtone.

The moment she heard the voice on the other end, her mind went blank. A sharp, deafening buzz filled her head, as if she'd been struck by a heavy blow. The calm expression she had maintained all evening finally cracked-panic flashed in her eyes, and a wave of fear and helplessness swallowed her whole.

She didn't even stop to find her grandfather. Without a second thought, she bolted out of the gala.

Racing through the streets, she pushed her car to its limits. As soon as she reached the house, she saw Nancy standing in the driveway, eyes red and swollen.

No.

Her body refused to accept what was happening. Stumbling up the stairs, her hands trembled as she reached for the bedroom door, heart pounding, terrified of what she was about to see...

****

"Violet, Violet Brooks!"

"Hmm?" Violet Brooks instinctively responded to her name, lifting her head from the table. But as she became fully aware of her surroundings, something felt off.

Rows of clothing, shoes, and accessories filled her vision. In the hallway, several models with long legs and slim waists stood waiting, each dressed in a different variation of the same collection. Staff members moved around, making last-minute makeup touch-ups.

She was backstage at a fashion show?

The realization hit her like a jolt. Violet shot up from her seat, nearly knocking over the countless bottles and compacts scattered across the table. Her sudden movement made the woman next to her even more annoyed, escalating from quiet complaints to outright scolding.

But Violet wasn't listening. Her gaze was locked on the mirror, staring at the reflection of a younger version of herself. Gone were the fine lines creeping up in her late twenties, the redness from past allergies. Instead, a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old girl looked back at her-youthful, full of collagen, even the tiny freckles on her nose appearing endearing.

Afraid this was just a dream, she pinched her thigh hard. The sharp pain made her wince.

"What the hell are you doing now?"

The sharp voice instantly pulled Violet back to reality. She frowned, searching her memory until she recognized the woman before her-Ava Price, her childhood friend from the orphanage.

"Ava?"

Ava rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, so you still remember me? Violet Brooks, you're on in five minutes, and you're napping here? What are you thinking?"

As Ava spoke, memories started to resurface. Ava had studied fashion design and landed a job at Bojia, a well-known local clothing brand. Wanting to support Violet's modeling dreams, she recommended her for the brand's summer collection show. Violet had impressed the panel during auditions and, despite being a complete newcomer, secured the role of the second-theme opener.

It should have been a dream opportunity-until the company's young owner showed up at rehearsals. Unfortunately, when Violet walked out, he had the audacity to whistle at her. Even worse, his girlfriend, the show's lead model, caught the whole thing.

Despite the clear indications that the whistle meant nothing, the girlfriend was furious. She couldn't take it out on her boyfriend, so she took it all out on Violet. She made rehearsals unbearable and pressured the organizers to kick Violet off the lineup.

While the show's director refused to remove Violet completely, he downgraded her spot. First, she was reassigned to a mid-show appearance. Then, just thirty minutes ago, she was pushed further back in the lineup, assigned an unremarkable outfit-a plain navy T-shirt and khaki shorts.

After listening to Violet's rundown, Ava, who had been chewing her out just moments before, fell silent. Her expression was a mix of sympathy and helplessness.

In her past life, Violet had been crushed by this injustice. She had sulked in the makeup room, swallowing her frustration.

But not this time.

Not only did she refuse to feel sorry for herself, but she even tried to lighten Ava's mood. "At least they didn't cut my pay. I'm getting a lead model's paycheck for a background role. That's a win, right?"

"You-!" Ava smacked her arm lightly in frustration, then pulled her into a hug. "Don't worry. You're young. This is just the beginning. You'll have plenty of chances in the future."

"Of course!"

Ava opened her mouth to say more, but her phone rang. Lowering her voice, she said, "Gotta go. Good luck out there."

"Good luck to you too."

As Ava disappeared down the hall, Violet took a deep breath. Even with a million thoughts racing through her mind, she pushed them aside. The only thing that mattered right now was the show.

She quickly checked her makeup in the mirror, then joined the lineup for the third theme. The show director scolded her for arriving late, but she ignored it.

Despite the tension between her and the lead model, the other girls in the lineup sympathized with Violet. The two models flanking her quietly filled her in on the last-minute changes. Grateful, Violet thanked them and exchanged social media contacts-a silent agreement among struggling models. You never knew when a connection could help land you another gig.